When Harry Met Perry
by Harry Lockhart
Summary: An AU look at what would happen if Perry met Harry while he was on one of his thieving heists.  Rating for language.


WHEN HARRY MET PERRY

Before you ask, yes – that's me rummaging through the DVD bin with all the lights off and the store looking suspiciously like it isn't open. That last part is easy enough to explain – it isn't open. The store is all locked up for the night. So why am I in there? Everyone has to make a living somehow, right? Look – I don't really consider myself to be a bad guy. I just do bad things. Sometimes. Okay, maybe more frequently than the average guy. I'm kind of a part-time thief, which is probably the strangest occupation in the world. Unless you count rodeo clowns, because I think that's pretty weird.

I'm sorry – how many times have I said "I" now? Eight times, I think – nine, now. Anyway, my point is, you have no idea who I am. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Harry Lockhart. I live by myself in some crappy apartment that I pay for by doing stuff like what I'm doing right now. Actually, not exactly like this, because I… "acquired" a DVD player a week ago and forgot to get anything to watch on it. I'm not always that stupid, I promise. Maybe I am, though… I _did _flunk out of high school. You can get all judgmental on my ass if you really want to, I guess. That's the type of stuff I always overhear people talking about. "So-and-so's only screwed up because he didn't take the time to get an education." Or "It's his fault for being so lazy." You get the point, right? I didn't take the time to get an education, and I have to admit, I can be a little lazy sometimes. I think you know enough about me now; it's time to move on. If you even want to hear anything more from me. You're probably like, "Fuck this dude, he's a criminal, an idiot, _and _he admitted to being lazy." And then you'd walk out and never give a second thought to me ever again. If not, then here we go:

So like I said, I was looking for some DVDs to watch later, assuming I didn't get caught or anything. But I knew this store like the back of my hand. I came here all the time when it was open, and I don't really ever get caught. I guess that's pretty obvious since I'm not actually in jail or anything. After I chose a couple of DVDs that I wanted, I walked over to those glass case counters where they keep all the watches. They didn't look as great when they didn't have all the little lights on, but I figured I could just take a few of the more expensive-looking watches and I could end my run right there. Plus, I needed a watch. It was really annoying never knowing what time it is. I had a watch before, but then I lost it someplace. Some jerk probably stole it right off my arm. But you know that feeling when you've always worn a watch, and you've always known what time it is; for some reason you take it off and then you always try to check for the time and realize there is no watch on your wrist like it always was? Yeah, I hate that feeling too.

I played around with one of the calculator watches for a while. I've never been real good at the "get in, get what you need and get out" mentality. Which is really fucking stupid if you're a thief. That's usually why I do this kind of stuff with my partner in crime – no pun intended, because it's the truth. Anyway, he's usually the one that rushes me along when I want to look at all this cool shit. And you have to admit, calculator watches are pretty cool. Especially since I've never really been good at math. But that just goes back to the whole flunking out of high school thing. I only flunked out of 12th grade, though. So two out of three isn't bad.

Since I figured I've played around with the watches enough, I took a few that I wanted and tried to fit them all in my pockets, and that's when I realized I couldn't carry all this. So I went to the cash registers where they keep all the bags they put your stuff in after you go through the checkout, and I grabbed a bag to put all my stuff in. I also grabbed a chocolate bar, because I was getting pretty hungry. I also love chocolate, but who doesn't? Don't worry – I'm not going to go ranting about chocolate now. I'm fully aware of my tendency to talk forever about stuff, because it's not often that my opinion is heard, and poor you – you kind of _have _to listen to my opinion if you want to hear my story.

After I got all my stuff in the bag, that's when it went awry (I kind of like that word by the way. It makes me sound intelligent). I heard a sound at the front doors – and not just any sound. The sound that strikes fear into your heart because you know you're doing something wrong and you desperately don't want to get caught, but that sound is happening regardless of how you planned your evening to go. So I ducked down behind the cash register and waited to see who or what was causing the sound. I don't actually believe some kind of tiger or alien could have broken in or anything, but it could have just been my imagination. Except I heard the sound again. Then I heard footsteps, and then breathing… whoever was in here was really close to where I was hiding. I also really had to take a piss so it was really hard to stay still. I actually strongly believe that's a side-effect of hiding someplace.

I was trying to figure out if the other person was a policeman or another thief who decided to sneak into the store. I would have made it pretty easy for them, because I had smashed the window out front… fuck. I _knew_ I should have done something a little less obvious. Since I figured a policeman would order me to "come out with my hands up", it couldn't be that. My theory that the other guy was a thief was only strengthened when I heard a gun click. So it was an armed thief. How ironic would it be if the guy mugged me in here? A voice interrupted my thoughts and nearly made me wet myself since I wasn't expecting anyone to talk.

"I know you're in here, asshole." The guy had such a matter-of-fact voice; I had to wonder if I was accidentally thinking out loud. I've done that before, it's actually pretty embarrassing. "You better come out before I decide to start shooting until I hear you say 'ow'."

That was pretty much all I needed to hear. So I stood up and put my hands behind my head, my bag of stuff still in my hand. I looked at the guy who was standing on the other side of the cash register with a gun in his hand. He had pretty much the hugest head I've ever seen – or it just looked like that. Like some optical illusion or something, I wasn't sure. It was a bit hard to see him that well in the dark, though. It looked like he had blond hair, and he was standing so casually that I considered the fact that he just did this every day. Fuck, maybe he was an undercover cop.

"What's in the bag?" The guy asked me, aiming his gun right at my forehead. Since I preferred my head to be bullet-free, I put the bag down on the counter beside the cash register and dumped it out. I think I did it a little too fast, since the guy took a very menacing step forward and his finger tightened around the trigger a little. The guy looked at the pile of DVDs and watches and a few chocolate bars and then at me. Just the way he looked at me made me feel like the biggest idiot in the world. "What are you, a five year old?" He asked, picking up a chocolate bar and proceeding to throw it at my face. Now I was really confused. Was he a cop or a robber? I really had to know whose side he was on.

"So which one are you?" I asked, forgetting that I was the only one who could hear my thoughts. I really needed to get some more sleep. "A cop or a robber, I mean. Are you going to arrest me, or mug me?"

"Neither, asshole." If he wasn't careful, I would begin to think that was my name. "I'm a PI who just happened to be driving by and saw the window was broken. I don't want to deal with you myself – I have more important things to do. So I'll just call the police."

"To arrest me?" I was a little crestfallen. I thought I could get away with my little expedition tonight. It was all over now. I really didn't want to go to jail.

"No, to have a tea party, paint each other's nails and talk about boys you like." The guy paused and I looked at him with all sorts of confusion on my face. "Yes, to arrest you, dickhead."

I was a really lucky son of a gun, wasn't I? Some guy claiming to be a private investigator comes around to the store I'm robbing who likes making me feel like an idiot, throwing chocolate bars at my face, and being incredibly sarcastic. He didn't seem like much of a professional to me. Maybe he was lying, and he was a robber who was just upset that I made it to the store first and had dibs on whatever I wanted.

"Are you really a private investigator?" My voice came out sounding way more challenging than I intended it to. It's pretty common knowledge that you shouldn't challenge someone who could mortally wound you, like a guy with a gun.

The guy just looked at me for a minute, and lowered his arm as well as loosening his grip on his gun. I felt all sorts of relief, but of course not the kind that required a bathroom. He reached into his pocket and continued to stare at me. It was the strangest awkward silence I had ever experienced, though I had a feeling it wasn't quite as awkward for him as it was for me.

"You know who you remind me of?" He asked. His voice was considerably softer now, and the tone that he used before that deeply insinuated he wanted to kill me was gone. I shrugged, and he went on. "You remind me of my brother. He was a really good guy who got into a lot of bad situations. I was really heartbroken one day when he got arrested and that was just the end of his carefree life. So I think I'll actually forget this whole thing and let you go if you promise to not get in trouble like this again. I won't call the police, and I'll make sure you get away safely."

"Really?" It just figured he decided to show all this compassion now that I had already been scared out of my mind and worried that I would get shot. But it was better now than never, I suppose.

"No, I don't have any siblings and there's no way in hell I'm going to let you get away with this, you ass hat." He responded. I was completely taken aback. This guy really goes out of his way to make people feel stupid, doesn't he? Or was it just me? It was probably just me. I'm incredibly lucky like that. That was sarcasm, by the way.

"Oh. Well you still didn't answer my question." I know what you're thinking. It's really bold of me to push this point when this guy has a gun and everything, but I figured by now that I just had nothing to lose except for my life. And it was a pretty sad life anyway.

The guy took his hand out of his pocket and he was holding a card. He leaned over the counter to hand it to me and crossed his arms while I looked at it. I guessed by now he just didn't figure I was a big enough threat to have to point his gun at me anymore. That didn't make me feel very good about myself. The card looked pretty legit, as far as I could see in the dark, anyway. I squinted and tilted it around until I could see the words on it, and it said "Perry Van Shrike" and "Private Investigator" on it. I handed the card back to him.

"Perry?" I asked. "Your name is Perry? You don't really look like a 'Perry'."

"What's your name then, smartass?"

"Harry." I answered by reflex. I didn't even stop to think if I really wanted him to know my name. At least I wasn't stupid enough to go on and give him my last name too.

"Well you don't look very much to me like a pubescent teenager with round glasses, robes and a wand." Perry said in that same matter-of-fact voice he used when I first heard him. It's actually a very annoying tone of voice to use. I didn't really know what to say in response to that. I got the reference, though. It was Harry Potter. Very clever… _not._ "Now, I'm going to count to three and I want you to come over here slowly so I can make sure you don't have any weapons on you. One… two…"

"Wait!" I interjected. "Are you gonna say "go", or are you just gonna say one, two, _three_?"

"Wow, you are more stupid than I thought. And that's an accomplishment since I thought you were pretty damn stupid already. Just come over here slowly and if you make any sudden movements, I'll shoot your toes off."

I really didn't doubt that he would shoot my toes off, so I just did what he asked me to do. Once I was on the other side of the counter and a couple feet away from him, he asked me to stop and I just stood there. The need to piss was so overwhelming that I nearly bolted to the bathroom right then. I really didn't want to lose my toes though, so I sort of shifted around a little bit and crossed my legs as casually as possible while I was standing there so I wouldn't wet myself. That would be really embarrassing.

"What are you doing?" Perry asked after watching me for a minute.

"I'm not gonna lie, I really have to take a piss right now." I answered, and he laughed. Not in the way that people laugh after you tell a funny joke and then you feel all good about yourself for getting that kind of a response. The kind of laugh that people do when they actually hate you and want to make you feel miserable. That kind of laugh. I didn't mind too much though, because I was a bit afraid he'd want to shoot me after that.

"Didn't your mother teach you to go to the bathroom before you rob someplace? All right, you know what? I'm not a completely horrible guy, so I'm going to let you relieve yourself at the very least. Also, I really don't want to see you wet yourself in front of me. You've already made a fucking huge fool of yourself." It was like we were on the same wavelength. He didn't want to see me wet myself, and I didn't want to wet myself in front of him. I was really glad that we could come to some common ground. "But I'm going to check the bathroom first to make sure there's no windows or anything you can use to pull something smart – which I doubt you'd be able to do even if you have the resources to, because you don't strike me as a very smart guy – and then I'm going to stand there and make sure you don't try anything. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." I didn't really care much about what he was saying. I _really _had to go.

So then Perry walked past me and made a motion for me to follow him. We went to the bathrooms and he turned the light on and looked around. There were no windows anywhere, and I guess the most dangerous thing I could do would be to smash the glass and try to stab him to death with it, and honestly I'm not really a violent guy. Plus, I'm pretty sure if I tried anything, he'd be able to strangle me just with that death glare of his. He just nodded at me after that and I assumed that meant it was alright to pee 'cause he'd checked out the bathroom and figured I wouldn't be able to do anything dangerous. Another awkward silence passed while I did that, but I felt so much better afterwards. Since the light was on, I was able to get a better look at this Perry guy, and it didn't do much for my already really awful first impression of him. He pretty much did have a big head and I was right about the blond hair. He's also a pretty tall guy, but I guess that's not saying much considering I'm not exceptionally tall myself.

"You gonna stop ogling me and wash your hands?" Perry asked. I got a very strange vibe from Perry just then. I got the slightest inkling that he might've been gay. The awkward moment got even more awkward so I ignored him and washed my hands. To be honest, I wasn't really planning to, but it was a good way to continue to ignore Perry.

After I finished washing my hands, there was another sound just like the sound I heard before Perry showed and fucked everything up for me. It looked like Perry heard the sound too, because he grinned and looked at me, the grin morphing into some kind of twisted triumphant look as soon as his eyes rested on me. I hated it, really.

"That would be the police, Potter." Perry said, and I rolled my eyes. He thought he was funny, and I didn't agree at all. Isn't it strange how all those people who _think _they're funny are really just jerks who are always making fun of you? Just kind of weird how it always works out like that. If you have any exceptions, I guess now would be the time to tell me, before I go on about it for hours and make myself look like a fucking weirdo. "Come on, I'll hand you over to them personally."

"I don't remember you ever actually calling the police," I pointed out as we exited the bathroom and walked in the direction of the front doors, where the sound had come from.

"Do you really think I wouldn't have some other, more subtle way to contact the police? You are so stupid that I actually believe if you were taught by a professional, you would make him stupid. If I were you, I'd be off to Oz to ask the Wizard for a brain." Perry raised his gun and pointed it at me again. "Now stay still or I'll shoot. Either way, I'll be rid of you very soon."

I put my hands up again, and looked out the glass doors at the empty parking lot. It was only a matter of time before the red and blue flashing lights would be blinding me, I would get handcuffed, put in the back of the police car while being read my rights, and then carted off to jail where I would probably become somebody's bitch. It wasn't a very happy mental image overall, I'd have to say.

"Oh, fuck." Perry said and swung his gun around to the side, focusing very hard on something I didn't see. I shuffled to the side a little so I could see around his big fat head, because he was very clearly pointing his gun at someone, but I still didn't see anything.

"What is it?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to make sure there wasn't anyone there that was about to jump me.

"Shut up," Perry said quickly, his voice almost a whisper. "Get down. As much as you probably deserve it, I'm not going to let you get killed over this, because that's not how I work."

I crouched down and put my hands over my head like I was expecting the ceiling to cave in on me or something. Really, I had no idea what to expect. Perry just got all tense suddenly and was pointing his gun in directions other than where I was standing. Something had to have been pretty wrong since I got the impression he really liked pointing his gun at me.

Just then I heard a gunshot and was quite sure it didn't come from Perry's gun, or it would be way louder. Perry ducked out of the way only seconds before, and the bullet lodged itself into the wall right behind where Perry was standing. I looked up at it and could feel my eyes go so wide I was afraid they would fall right out of their sockets. I had never been as afraid as I had been right then, and I've been in some pretty tough situations. Believe it or not, this was the first situation I'd been in that actually involved the use of guns. I'd _seen _lots of guns before, but I'd never seen them get fired.

Perry ducked down on the floor behind me and pointed to an aisle of shelves past the entrance and to the right. "Get over there as fast as you can and keep your head down."

This was probably the first time I didn't want to argue with Perry or didn't feel like punching him for something he's said. I crawled like some panicked animal over to where he had pointed and tucked myself in the corner between two shelves. You know when you're reading some suspenseful book and the author describes the character's fear like their heart beating so hard they could feel it pounding in their chest? What I felt was exactly like that, but I could also feel it in my throat. Which was very dry. Dry throats have also probably been mentioned in suspenseful books. I had no idea what was going on, but there was like, a natural human instinct I had that sensed danger. Well, of course there was danger though – there were two guys with guns in here, and I really had no idea which one was actually on my side. I was pretty sure I wanted to be on Perry's side – even though he was going to have me arrested, he did say something about not wanting me killed over this. I didn't know where the other guy was, but I had the feeling he didn't care if I was killed or not.

At that moment, I really wished that I had some kind of a weapon. Usually Richie – my partner, I mentioned him before – is the one with the gun or something. He actually takes this shit pretty seriously. Which is exactly why I couldn't bring him this time. It's good that I didn't, or else he'd be in this whole mess too. And then he'd do something stupid, I'm sure. So anyway, I was crawling along the aisles that Perry pointed out to me, and I heard a couple more gunshots. It only made me hustle faster to find something, anything, to protect myself with.

There were two things that happened next. I can't really remember what order they happened in, so you'll just have to bear with me here. So I think first, I heard Perry yelling something at me. I wasn't really sure what he was saying because he sounded pretty far away. Then, I found a bat only for twenty-five bucks, which was pretty good considering it was aluminum. No, wait – that happened last. Okay, rewind. Perry yelled something at me and then I heard this really big smashing sound. I looked up at the shelf that was blocking my view from everything that was going on, and heard another big smashing sound, and smaller sounds like items being scattered all over the floor. One more smashing sound and then the shelf I was looking at was starting to fall over. It was then that I realized what the smashing sounds were. The shelves hitting each other, and falling over. Aren't I a genius?

Anyways, that's when I screamed the word I've always imagined being my very last word before I die: "Fuck!" Okay, well I lied about the part where that's the last word I imagined saying before I died. But I did say it. Very loudly. I tried to back up, stand and run away from where I was all at the same time, and I managed to get pretty far before I felt the weight of the shelf collapse on me and knock me back down to the very cold linoleum floor of the store.

You will be happy to hear that I was perfectly alright after that.

You will be unhappy to hear that was a complete and utter lie.

Depends whose side you're on, really. If you're cheering for anyone _except _me, I guess it was a good thing that shelf landed on me. In that case, I have two words for you: Fuck you. I've made myself the victim as much as I possibly could for this entire story, and if you can't express at least a little apathy for me, then you have no heart. Or is it empathy? Apathy? Empathy? Anyway…

There I was, crushed under the shelf and feeling pain all over my body. My wrists hurt from me trying to soften the blow of my fall by putting my hands out in front of me, my legs hurt from the shelf falling on them… you get the picture. I was stuck under that shelf with no hopes of getting out, and even if I did, my left leg felt quite completely broken. I mean, fuck, if I could describe the pain to you, then you would never want to leave your house for fear of having something like that happen to you. You'd never trust another shelf again. Not that shelves are trustworthy. But then again, I never had that high of a threshold for pain. I try now and again, but it usually ends in me conjuring some stream of colorful swears. Ha! Conjure. If you were paying attention, you'd remember Perry making some jokes about Harry Potter, and since he's a wizard (Harry Potter, not Perry), it's kind of funny, because – never mind. The joke is never funny when you have to explain it.

_That _is when I found the bat. I knew I was missing something, and I guess I was trying to repress the memory of the intense pain that I felt. Well, I guess with the yelling, the shelves falling, and the bat, that's three things. I said two things, but it doesn't really matter. The bat sort of just rolled off the shelf that committed attempted murder on me, and I grabbed it, hoping if anyone came within batting distance of me, I could beat them down even though I was crushed underneath a shelf. There were some more gunshots, and I could hear footsteps from behind me, I hoped desperately they were Perry's. Funny how fast your perception on someone can change when you're put into different positions. I mean, at first, we're all, "Policemen are great! Private Investigators are great! They help us with all of our problems, and they're just great!" And then as soon as you do something really wrong, you're all, "Fuck policemen! Fuck Private Investigators! They fuck us all over and cause a bunch of problems!" And then when you're in danger and you realize these people really are the good guys, you're like, "Save me, policemen! Save me, Private Investigators!" Okay, maybe you can't personally relate to that whole chain of events, but I know I can. And that's all that matters, because _I'm _the one telling the story.

"Perry, is that you?" I asked; my voice making me sound surprisingly less injured than I actually was.

"No, it's the tooth fairy."

I had never been more relieved to hear such annoying sarcasm in my life.

"Can you help me over here, please? And tell me what the hell is going on?" I waved the bat around a little, just to make sure Perry could see where I was. Soon he came around right in front of me and looked around cautiously before getting a grip on the corner of the shelf that was crushing my legs and trapping me there.

"On three, crawl out from underneath there because I am _not _picking up this whole shelf. We don't have time." Perry said, and I was quite glad he specified whether it was on 'three' or 'go'. He probably did that for me, though. Because he thinks I'm stupid. "One… two… _three_." Perry lifted the shelf just enough for me to drag myself out from underneath. He dropped it and offered me a hand to stand up. I took it and leaned on the bat, using both Perry and the bat to help me stand up. It was _very _painful. "I'm assuming your leg isn't supposed to be bending like that."

It was just great that he decided to point it out. I looked down at my left leg and saw that it was sticking out at a rather abnormal angle. It wasn't so weird that you would have one look at me and want to cart me off to the freak show; it was more like you look at me and do a double take because you noticed something a little strange.

"Can I have some information? Who's shooting at us?" I decided ignoring the whole leg thing would assist me in forgetting about the pain that was coursing up and down my entire body.

"Quite the cunning criminal… I've been after him for weeks now. Goes by the name of 'Santiago', but he's really Peter Wicker, some self-proclaimed badass that just turned very bitter one day, grabbed a gun and decided to take it out on the world."

I looked at Perry as though he had grown another head. I knew I asked for information and everything, but for a brief second, I felt as though he actually looked upon me as a peer. Which is quite a lot to ask, since he probably thinks I'm a no-good, dirty thief.

"So you're gonna arrest him, right? And me, I guess, since the police are coming…" I was having a _really _bad day.

"I think I can let you off the hook for real tonight, Harry. If we catch this guy and you survive through it. I'm going to need you to do everything I say, exactly as I tell you to, though." I was pretty sure Perry actually wasn't joking this time.

"Sure, anything, what do you want me to do?" I asked, eager to help bust a real criminal. Not just some straggler like me who just did whatever in order to survive.

"Sit down and shut the fuck up, that's what I want you to do." Perry answered, looking at me sternly. I knew it was too good to be true. I wasn't getting arrested, if he held true to his promise, but I wasn't going to be of any assistance, either. Which sucked. It would be nice to feel like the hero for once. "Your leg looks broken anyway. I'm thinking Wicker thought it was me behind these shelves and thought it was a nice idea to knock them over. Luckily, it was just you."

"Yeah, lucky." I answered with enough sarcasm to hopefully equal any that Perry had thrown at me before. I leaned against the wall and sunk down to a sitting position, cringing all the while. It's no easy shit, having a broken leg. People are usually so brave about it; I figured it must not be as bad as they say. I was wrong.

Perry looked at me with some kind of expression I couldn't quite read, and then bolted off with his gun raised, looking to his left and right like he was some little kid crossing the street. Only a kid wouldn't have a gun. I'm sure you get the point, though. I went through around ten minutes of sharp pain in my leg and wrists – I fell on them, remember. They still hurt, even though the pain in my leg was the worst. After a while, I heard some shouting. I recognized Perry's voice, but it sounded a whole hell of a lot angrier than it did when he was yelling at me. Then I heard some other voice that sounded pretty high-strung, yet evil all at the same time. I got to thinking, and imagined the guy as being bald with an eye patch. You know those evil geniuses on all the spy and mystery movies that would look completely normal if they didn't have some unsightly scar or distinguishing feature? I wanted this Peter Wicker guy to be like that, for some reason.

Then I heard a gunshot, and footsteps falling quickly. They didn't sound like Perry's, but what do I really know? The footsteps got louder and along came a guy with the ugliest bowl-cut I've ever seen. I'm talking something that even The Beatles would shake their heads in disapproval at. Every bowl in the world would deny having had anything to do with that fucking _hideous _haircut. He also was pretty muscular and wore a black t-shirt and dark jeans, not unlike what I was wearing, except I had a black hoodie on top of my black t-shirt. Plus, my t-shirt had the Guns 'n' Roses' logo on the front. The guy came running past me with the most anxious look on his face, and I figured this was Peter Wicker. Not the bald guy with the eye patch I had imagined. It probably would be an upgrade for this guy if he was bald, though. So Peter tripped over my leg – my left leg, and it was really painful. He fell over as I yelped in pain – I guess he hadn't seen me when he was running. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, and I thought this was the perfect opportunity to make myself useful. I had an aluminum bat; I didn't want Wicker to get away, so I smashed him over the head with it.

I was pretty surprised when the guy fell unconscious on the ground, but I had done my part and I felt pretty good about it. I remembered the gunshot I heard before and suddenly got really worried about the well-being of my incredibly sarcastic "friend", so I stood up the best I could and limped through the store to find the place where I heard the yelling come from earlier, using the bat as a sort of cane. I found Perry lying with his eyes closed in the electronics section, where this insane story started. Which is kind of poetic, if you think about it. Well, it would be if this was the very end of the story and Perry was just dead and I left him there, handed Peter Wicker over to the police, made myself the hero and went to the hospital to get my leg looked at, always remembering "that fateful day".

But that's not how it happened.

I stepped closer to Perry and checked him for a pulse, which he thankfully had. I sat beside him because my leg was killing me, and saw a bullet hole in his shirt. My jaw dropped, because I couldn't believe he could be shot by that asshole that I just beat over the head with a bat. But there was something wrong. There was no blood. I guess that's not wrong, it's actually good there was no blood. So I opened up his shirt and saw he was wearing a bullet-proof vest. I felt so relieved, but there was still the matter of him being unconscious. Well, not for long, actually. He opened his eyes all of a sudden and took a huge breath like he hadn't been breathing the entire time he was out.

"Are you trying to frisk me, Harry?" Perry asked with a mischievous grin, and I backed away quickly with a look of disgust on my face. He was definitely gay, but this was just some joke to him. He was so _weird_.

"No. Uh, are you okay?" I looked uneasily at the bullet hole in his shirt, because I was kind of expecting blood to start gushing out any moment and him to fall back over, completely dead this time.

"I'm alright; where's Wicker?"

"Um… well, I beat him over the head with this," I answered, slightly waving the bat around. "He's unconscious, and I think I heard the police coming."

"Huh." Perry said, with a considering look upon his face.

"What?"

"I guess you're not as big of an idiot as I thought. Not completely useless, at least."

"Well thanks, I guess…?"

Perry stood up and brushed himself off, and looked over his shoulder while I got up using the bat and the DVD bin that was next to me. He started walking toward the entrance, so I followed him. Perry found where Peter Wicker was lying. He was probably really gonna feel that whack in the morning.

"Good work," Perry said shortly and went to the door where some policemen were just entering. They looked around at the absolute mess of the store where the shelves had fallen over, looked at me and my leg, and then looked at Perry. "We've got Peter Wicker. He's just over there. Unconscious." Perry jerked his thumb toward where Wicker was lying and one of the two policemen left, grabbing handcuffs off his belt. I couldn't help but flinch a little bit at that, considering those should have been clamping around my wrists right about now.

"Who's 'we', exactly?" The other policeman asked. "Who's this guy?" He pointed at me.

"Harry Lockhart." I stated before Perry answered the policeman's question. Perry looked at me as though he was annoyed for the interruption, even though he hadn't even started talking yet.

"Lockhart was assisting me with the end of this case. He's training to become an investigator himself," Perry answered, and I just nodded as though I wasn't just learning about this right now. If I didn't stick to the story, Perry would probably go back on his word and just have me arrested.

"Well, nice to meet you then, Mr. Lockhart," The policeman reached out his hand, but I was a little reluctant to shake it. I was afraid that as soon as I touched his hand, he'd suddenly know what I was really doing here, but Perry looked at me expectantly so I shook the policeman's hand. I just nodded quickly at him, afraid that my voice would give away any fears I had about being discovered.

The first policeman came back, dragging a handcuffed Peter Wicker carefully across the ground. The other policeman assisted him with the man, thanking Perry and me for our help in catching him and then took him out to their police car and drove away. Perry turned to look at me, squinting his eyes slightly as though he was trying to decide something.

"What?" I asked, not loving the way he was looking at me. Especially since I was 102% sure he was gay.

"How'd you like to work for me for real, Harry?"


End file.
